


Held

by Saucery



Series: The Sterek Porn Collection [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bloodplay, Breathplay, D/s, Dark, Dark Stiles, Drama, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, Gloves, Kink Negotiation, Leather Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a thing for Derek's <a href="http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/post/33841564583/i-could-watch-derek-smile-while-pulling-on-gloves">leather gloves</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressNerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressNerd/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Сдерживаемый](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031504) by [Black_Mamba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Mamba/pseuds/Black_Mamba)



> Happy Birthday, [mistressnerd](http://mistressnerd.tumblr.com/)! This is a bit early for your birthday, but I probably won't be around on the 11th and I didn't want to be late!

* * *

 

"You know," says Stiles, one day, "you don't have to take them off." And then, he blushes. Hotly.

Derek notices how Stiles's scent changes, from its usual post-sex muskiness into something hothouse-rich and heavy. "Take what off?"

"Your... You know what? Never mind."

Derek lets it go, because he'll get the answer out of Stiles, later, when Stiles is sheened with sweat and working himself back onto Derek's cock and saying every filthy thing that enters his brain.

*

It turns out to be about the gloves.

The gloves Derek most often uses to torture their enemies.

It's -

It isn't _unexpected_ , given how Stiles's eyes glint whenever Derek gets something out of their prisoners, when Derek picks them apart with shards of glass until the entire basement stinks of blood and terror.

It isn't unexpected, but Derek finds it a pleasant surprise, anyway.

*

The next time they have a captive - a stray Hunter that's made it too far into their territory - Derek leaves the Hunter bleeding and bound to a chair, and walks to the edge of the room to give Stiles his fingers to suck, instead.

Derek's fingers are gloved and dark and gleam wetly with blood, and Stiles takes them into his mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world, like this is what he's been waiting for, and Stiles's eyelashes flutter closed as he sucks. He kneels, slowly, taking Derek's hand down with him, and then turns aside to brush his cheek against Derek's gloved palm, like a cat. The leftover blood streaks his face, and Stiles looks blissed-out on it, his pupils dilated, like he's high.

"You're sick," the Hunter rasps, behind them. "You're both fucking sick."

Derek just smirks and unzips his jeans, and curls his black-clad fingers in Stiles's hair, to guide Stiles the way he likes to be guided - with careful, patient force.

*

Later, when they're upstairs, he fingers Stiles open with the gloves, until Stiles begins a shuddering writhe that starts with his trembling lips and runs down his torso, all the way to his dick, which jumps and leaks in Derek's other hand. Derek milks him and opens him, and Stiles's eyes roll back as his fists clench in the sheets.

What Derek loves about the gloves, personally, is that they're a reminder of restraint - of keeping to his human form, of not changing, of not sprouting claws. They're a reminder not to lose control, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how angry he is or how hungry he is or how starved he is for sex. Derek loves how the gloves mute things, how they make him feel more human, more contained; he loves struggling for sensation despite that muting, despite that quietness. Sensation becomes a precious thing, heightened wherever it isn't hampered by the gloves - the stirring of the air against the raised hairs on his arm, for example, the moistness of Stiles's breath. It's all a game of shadows, of contrasts, too-much versus too-little, and Derek -

Derek loves it all. He especially loves the small, broken sounds Stiles makes when Derek finger-fucks him with the gloves - no lube, just leather. He loves it when Stiles forgets to beg, forgets everything that requires language or thought, and simply grinds _back_ against him, in deep, drugged circles, sweat pooling in the dip of his lower back and trickling down between his shoulder-blades.

Derek loves Stiles's scent, when he's so lost. He loves it when he finally fucks Stiles with his cock and Stiles _lurches_ forward at the first brutal thrust, so that Derek has to drag him back with a gloved hand around his throat, clenching it harder and harder until Stiles gasps for air, until the leather creaks so inaudibly that only a werewolf can hear it.

Derek loves it when Stiles comes like that, choking out breathless cries, curving like a plucked string.

*

"It's because you hurt people with them," says Stiles, when Derek asks him _why_. "It makes me wonder if you'll ever hurt me."

"If I'll ever torture you," Derek corrects him.

Stiles shrugs, lazy with post-coital lassitude, his bare shoulders pale and fragile. "Sure. Yeah."

"And you get off on that?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Good question. Derek isn't bothered by it, by this apparent sexual fantasy of Stiles's that has Derek tying him up and torturing him the way he tortures their prisoners; rather, he wonders how far he can go with it, how far is safe, given the human inability to heal. Maybe it's enough like this, with no lasting scars, with Stiles only tasting the blood of others on those gloves, with no greater intimacy than that -

"You could try hurting me. For real." And Stiles is blushing again.

Fine. Maybe it isn't enough like this, after all.

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
